Is the Qingming Scroll Actually the World’s First Pub Crawl Guide?

If you had a time machine to grab a drink in the past, which era would you choose? A 1920s Prohibition-era speakeasy in New York? Or the absinthe-soaked Left Bank of Paris in the late 19th century?

For the 2026 Year of the Horse, a mockumentary titled Special Year of the Horse Edition: My One-Day Hangover in Bianjing offers a mind-blowing yet utterly fascinating answer: the Northern Song Dynasty's capital, Bianjing, in 1126 AD.

Rather than resorting to dry historical lectures, this film boldly reimagines the famous Qingming Scroll as a hackable metaverse. When Hoshizaki-grade 4K clear ice, molecular smoke bubbles, and the velvet ropes of modern nightclubs seamlessly appear on the ink-washed streets of the Northern Song Dynasty, we cannot help but wonder: setting aside these absurdly humorous modern filters, what did the real Qingming Scroll and the ancient "bar hopping" lifestyle actually look like?

The Reality Behind the Scroll: A 12th-Century Urban Commercial Micro-Film

To truly appreciate the brilliance of this film, one must first understand the historical significance of the Qingming Scroll. Painted by the imperial court artist Zhang Zeduan during the Xuanhe era (1119–1125 AD), this five-meter-long panoramic masterpiece vividly documents the urban landscape and the daily lives of people from all walks of life in the capital city of Bianjing (modern-day Kaifeng, Henan).

Unlike traditional landscape paintings that pursue an ethereal, otherworldly aesthetic, the Qingming Scroll is an extremely realistic work brimming with the hustle and bustle of secular life. From the tranquil rural outskirts and the busy river transport on the Bian River to the noisy city streets, Zhang meticulously illustrated over 800 figures, various livestock, carts, palanquins, and boats. More importantly, the scroll captures a vast array of businesses in exhaustive detail, including teahouses, taverns, pawnshops, and inns.

It is precisely this heavy commercial atmosphere and vibrant street life captured by Zhang Zeduan that gives the mockumentary its perfect entry point to transform the painting into a "pub crawl map." It’s not just a painting; it is the epitome of the prosperous Song Dynasty and a real-life screenshot of the world's most thriving metropolis at the time.

Bianjing: The Global Nightlife Capital of the Song Dynasty

The film opens with a modern first-person POV diving into the scroll. We are greeted not by a serene ancient capital, but by an absurd traffic jam on the Rainbow Bridge—ancients stare in frustration at their smartphones, complaining that their Uber has been stuck on the bridge for ten hours.

While this seems like a humorous jab at modern urban traffic, historically, Bianjing was indeed the world's most developed "city that never sleeps" with the busiest traffic of its time. The Song Dynasty completely abolished the strict curfews and enclosed ward systems of the preceding Tang Dynasty, meaning Bianjing's residents could legally roam the streets and party all night long.

According to the historical text Reminiscences of the Eastern Capital, Bianjing's tavern system was incredibly advanced. The massive, state-licensed mega-taverns with brewing rights were called Zhengdian (Authentic Taverns, of which there were 72 in the city), while the countless small to medium-sized bars that purchased alcohol from them were called Jiaodian (Foot Taverns). The Jiu Pei (tavern flags) flying high everywhere in the painting were essentially the neon signs of that era, guiding drinkers across the city.

When Modern Mixology Meets Song Dynasty Alchemy

The most hilarious yet hardcore highlight of the film is the perfect juxtaposition of modern mixology with daily Song Dynasty life. On screen, artisans push carts of crystal-clear, high-definition ice blocks and even distill gin using ancient alchemy furnaces.

So, did people in the Song Dynasty actually put ice in their drinks? The answer is yes. The Song Dynasty possessed highly mature "ice cellar" technology. By summer, the streets of Bianjing even sold iced treats like "icy sweet dumplings." Although they couldn't carve out the kind of futuristic, light-refracting old ice seen in the film, the dedication to temperature control remains unchanged from ancient times to the present.

As for the grain transport boat on the Bian River fully loaded with 500 gallons of Angostura Bitters—that is a brilliant historical metaphor. While Song Dynasty alcohol consisted mainly of fermented yellow wine and rice wine, ancients were remarkably keen on adding various spices and medicinal herbs—such as agarwood, costus root, and even precious borneol—to elevate the flavor profile. This logic is practically identical to how modern mixologists use bitters to provide the finishing touch to a cocktail.

In the bar flair segment, the bartender in the painting wields a bronze shaker with a flawless "Hard Shake" technique—the movements are sharp and explosive, without spilling a single drop of precious liquid, and with no unnecessary tools cluttering the bar. This artisan spirit, taking craftsmanship to its absolute zenith, combined with molecular gastronomy-style smoke bubbles, imbues this "ancient bartending show" with a cyberpunk-esque sense of high technology.

Class, Guest Masters, and That Heartbreaking Bill

As the film's rhythm shifts into the psychedelic revelry of the night, the "class distinctions" of modern nightclubs are also imported into the ink wash painting. Want to enter the VIP hidden speakeasy of a high-end tavern? Sorry, you’ll have to wait obediently behind velvet stanchions while a stone-faced bouncer checks the bamboo-slip guest list.

Without a reservation, even the great poet Su Dongpo would be left standing at the door.

This might seem absurd, but in the Song Dynasty, top-tier authentic taverns like the Fanlou genuinely featured private rooms (called Gezi) of various sizes. These were exclusively reserved for high-ranking officials and wealthy merchants to enjoy intimate, tipsy moments, and the minimum spend there was far beyond the reach of ordinary people.

Moreover, the Italian guest shift bartender who draws citywide crowds with his Western mixology techniques in the film, is not entirely historically baseless. International trade during the Northern Song period was incredibly prosperous. Envoys and merchants from Central Asia, and even as far as Fulin (the Byzantine Empire, representing Europe at the time), frequently visited Bianjing. An artisan bartender from the Far West causing a sensation in a Bianjing tavern perfectly aligns with the magical realism of this cosmopolitan city.

Yet, no matter how time and space shift, the price of a good buzz remains shockingly consistent. At the end of the film, the protagonist wakes up on a mess of a bar table. The frame freezes on a shiny, modern VISA credit card, followed instantly by an astronomically high, floor-dragging bill.

This deft punchline violently yanks the audience out of the partying dreamscape and back to reality. It turns out that from 1126 to 2026 AD, human technology may have advanced and bartending tools may have evolved, but the universal truth of "drink merrily today, weep over the bill tomorrow" has never changed.

This Year of the Horse, if the reality of the Spring Festival crowds leaves you exhausted, why not play this film and hack into the Qingming Scroll metaverse? Raise your martini and toast to that prosperous era filled not with smartphones, but with fluttering tavern flags. Just remember, be sure to bring enough silver taels—or at the very least, hide your credit card.